it seems strange that by the will of myself
I stumbled across a person like you
that sees only the good in destroying oneself
and never thinks about the consequences
of words, actions and thoughts

I noticed how swollen your knuckles were
on the day that I first met you - nothing has changed,
I suppose you still find adrenaline and comfort
in punching walls.
They can't feel, you know.

you always hide your hair under a hat,
but I can't deduct why. I know that very few people
have seen your bare head, your bare body, but why
do you hide it, when I know how beautiful
it really is?

your pasty skin, your prominent bones,
your cut up shins and bruised arms
and the rise and fall of your chest
when you're laying beside me
at midnight